Let Me Tell You about Jasper . . .

by Dana Perino

  You’re Back! Here’s a Stuffed Animal Carcass

  BRACE YOURSELF! should be a warning sign on our front door.

  Jasper loves to greet people. Whenever someone comes in, he checks out who it is, then scrambles to his toy box and brings something back, his behind wagging so much it could churn butter.

  We taught him not to jump up on people, so instead he does these little hops on his front legs. He looks like Peter dancing to hip-hop.

  He doesn’t want you to take the toy from him; he just wants you to see it. And if we tell him, “Get another one,” he’ll return to the box and stuff another toy or two in his mouth. We praise him, his tail wags even more. His record was five toys at once—quite a mouthful.

  Like other dogs, Jasper doesn’t have a keen sense of time. We get this kind of greeting if we’ve been away for a week, popped out to the grocery store, or taken out the trash. No matter what, Jasper greets us like we’re just back from the front. (Which, working in cable news in New York City, I often feel that I am.)

  Jasper greets me with more than one toy in his mouth. His record is five (of course).

  Being greeted by Jasper, and Henry before him, is a rush for me. Like a runner’s high without the workout. It means I’m always met with warmth and affection—and it helps make our house such a welcoming home.

  From the start, Jasper loved his toys and his bed. It looked like he would make up games to play by himself, and he’d make all kinds of groaning and howling noises, just for the fun of it. To this day when we make him go to his bed while we eat dinner, he will put on one of these displays—turning upside down, and having some sort of play fight with a ghost, something he’s done since his first days in Manhattan. It never fails to crack us up—which is probably why he does it. Those moments take the sting out of any work day.

  Jasper has a gigantic basket of toys. Many of them now are just carcasses of stuffed animals. Toys I can see from where I’m writing: snake, lobster, dinosaur, elephant, circus elephant, duck, bear, killer whale, sock monkey (a favorite), Frisbee, red panda, and a hippie man. Hippie man is dressed in a tie-dye T-shirt and has a long beard and a peace symbol necklace. Jasper ripped off his arms. Peter says, “Don’t worry, Jasper. He’s armless.” I laugh every time.

  One of the reasons Jasper rips apart his toys is that he’s trying to get the squeak out. I’ve watched him with new toys and admire how he can immediately find the weak stitching and start pulling it apart. Once he gets the plastic squeaker out of the toy, he ejects it onto the floor. Another one bites the dust.

  We have a friend that patches up all of his dog’s ripped-up toys, painstakingly sewing them on weekends. That would never work at our house. If I tried to sew Jasper’s toys, I wouldn’t have time for anything else. I’m just glad he doesn’t do that to the couch. Or one of our guests.

  Every few weeks I think that I need to pare down his toys. I wait until he’s out with Peter and then I start going through the box. Every toy brings back a memory. I remember if the toy was a gift, like his Tigger that my sister, Angie, got him when he was just a young puppy. I can’t throw that out. I pick up others, some now just the hides of old skunks and squirrels, and still I can’t throw them away. I could end up on Hoarders but instead of having tons of live pets, I would be surrounded by the remnants of Jasper’s toys. Needless to say, despite my determination to declutter the toy box, I don’t throw much away. Essentially, we live in a stuffed pet cemetery.

  Jasper & friends. Peter helps me stage these—though he grumbles, I think he gets a kick out of it.

  “OUCH!” is often yelled in our house when we step on one of Jasper’s deer antler chew toys that he’s left lying in the middle of the rug. Jasper’s toys aren’t just in the box. They’re in the kitchen, the family room, the hallway, the living room, the bedroom… even in the bathroom. They’re everywhere. We’re forever picking up his toys and putting them back in the box.

  But sometimes, Peter and I just walk over them. One week an “indestructible” stuffed pink pig sat in our hallway for days. I refused to pick it up, and I wanted to test Peter on how long it would stay there.

  On the third day, I was getting irritated. “Peter, are you ever going to pick up that pig?” I asked.

  “I hadn’t noticed it,” he said. I didn’t believe him at first, but then I realized I ignore the toys, too. It isn’t that unusual to take a bath and have a stuffed cow and a scraggly monkey sitting on the floor staring at me (which sounds like a scene from a Hitchcock movie, I’ll admit).

  On a night when Peter and Jasper were both away, I came home late from the studio and turned on the bedroom light. I yelped because I thought there was a raccoon in the bedroom (fifteen floors up in Manhattan, mind you)—but it was just one of Jasper’s toys, placed just so. Very funny, Jasper.

  Jasper’s toys have kind of become our friends, too. We’re a growing family. I just wish I’d taught him to put the toys back in the box. But even Henry couldn’t do that.

  One of my favorite photographs to stage is Jasper with all of his “friends” getting ready to watch a presidential debate. When he was just a young puppy, I made Peter help me gather all of the toys and pile them up around Jasper on the couch. Peter thought it was a bit ridiculous and over the top, but he rallied and that particular photograph ended up being one of my most popular on Twitter. Since the number of toys keeps growing, the number of “friends” does, too—but many of them are looking a little worse for wear since their stuffing has been ripped out.

  Jasper and all of his friends getting ready to watch the presidential debate in 2012. That was one of my most popular Tweets—and still one of my favorites.

  Just another night on the couch with Jasper and his buddies—talk about a popular dog.

  My favorite thing to do when I get home from work on some days is to go into one of Jasper’s dedicated cupboards in the kitchen (yes, there is more than one!) and pull out a new toy. He must know the smell because he comes trotting in as I say, “Oh my goodness… oh my goodness! What is this? It’s a (fill in the blank).” You could give him anything and he’d be so thrilled. I once gave him a stuffed Larry King doll. He even loved that.

  Peter used to prove this to me when Henry was alive. He’d say, of course he wags his tail when you talk in that voice. Then he’d demonstrate. “Henry! Do you want to go to the electric chair? Oh you do! You want to go to the electric chair!”

  Tail wagged. Point taken.

  But I’m still not throwing any of those toys out.

  Dana’s Personal Tips for Dog Training

  I’M NOT A PROFESSIONAL DOG TRAINER, but I grew up on a ranch that had both working and house dogs that were well behaved and a lot of fun. They were a part of our family.

  At night, after supper, they got our scraps. They even liked watermelon rinds and sometimes would fight over them. I never liked to give the dogs the bucket of scraps because they scared me with their enthusiasm and sometimes they’d snap at each other, showing their teeth and growling. So I watched my cousins do it. They were not afraid.

  When I trained my own dogs years later, I tried to incorporate my grandfather’s techniques (even though Jasper lives in Manhattan and not on a ranch, these tips are universal).

  Many families choose to hire a professional dog trainer, and that’s a good option if you don’t have the time to train your dog yourself. But if you want to try to do it on your own, there are several good books and online videos that can help you. And in the meantime, here are some of my top tips for dog training:

  START EARLY. Dogs like to learn, and the best way to train is to start as early as possible. This goes for everything from potty training to tricks. If you’ve opened your heart and home to a rescue and aren’t sure of its age, consider asking a professional to help you. Often, rescue dogs know they’ve been saved, and so they express their gratitude by being good and sweet.

  CONSISTENCY. This is so important—everyone in the household has to agree on the approach to
training the dog. Each person must use the same commands and no one can be the pushover and let the dog get away with something that others wouldn’t allow. Establish someone to be in charge for particular outings or training sessions—that way the dog doesn’t have multiple people yelling different things at it all at once (you can rotate the person in charge so that the dog learns to respond to everyone in the family).

  EYE CONTACT. When you’re interacting with your dog, always try to look him in the eye. You’ll notice that when a dog knows he has done something wrong, he looks away and avoids your gaze. So make sure that you look the dog in his eyes and say the words for the behavior you’re trying to enforce (this is important for whether you’re disciplining or praising your dog). Also, let him know he is loved and safe. At least once a day I make sure to look Jasper in the eyes and say, “I love you.” I think he understands me.

  Eye contact is key.

  MANNERS MATTER. Since we live in a highly populated area and share elevators with people in our building, we’ve put a focus on manners. Jasper knows he has to sit in an elevator and that he can’t pull on a leash when we are on sidewalks. Thankfully, the only time he barks is when he’s playing at the dog park. We discouraged him from barking inside from an early age so that we wouldn’t bother our neighbors. I also refuse to embarrass myself by having to yell at my dog in public, and so I make sure my dogs know how to behave. Gradually, after they learn to heel or sit at the corner before crossing a street, I don’t even give them a command—I just clear my throat, “Ahem…,” and they do what I want. This saves me from being exasperated out in public and it’s made all of our outings better—taking your dog out should be a joy, not a chore.

  PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT. Repetition is the key to good dog training. If you’re trying to get your dog to heel or to give a high five, it’s important to practice regularly and often. I’ve found that practicing three times a day is the minimum needed for a dog to learn. Some dogs catch on quickly, especially if every time they give a high five they think they’re going to receive a treat. I’ve also found that you have to give dogs a break—after five times, if the dog has the trick down, move on and then try it again a couple of hours later. If the dog doesn’t seem to be getting it after five tries, give it a rest for a while. You can revisit that trick later.

  CALM OWNER, CALMER DOG. A hyper or frantic dog can make for an unhappy household. Vizslas are known to have a lot of energy, and I’ve noticed that if we are calm around Jasper, then he’s calm. We make sure he gets enough time to exercise and play, but we don’t put up with whining or obnoxious behavior. Dogs will mimic your demeanor, so a calm owner helps train a calmer dog.

  HIDE FROM YOUR DOG ONCE WHEN THEY’RE YOUNG AND THEY’LL ALWAYS KEEP YOU IN SIGHT. This was a tip we learned in England when we had just picked up Henry from the breeder. We read that if you wanted to make sure your dog wouldn’t run off, the best way to do that was to hide from them, giving them a scare. We tried this at a forested rest area. Henry was off his leash but safe in an enclosed space. He started sniffing around and when he wasn’t looking, Peter dashed behind a tree and waited, keeping an eye on our new puppy. Henry didn’t notice for a while, but when he looked up and couldn’t see his owner, he panicked and started dashing about. We let it go on for a few seconds, and then Peter stepped out from behind the tree. Henry ran to him and we soothed him, letting him know he was okay. But guess what? From then on we could go for a hike or a walk on the beach and he never got too far away from us. Those few moments of fear were worth it. We didn’t have to yell constantly at Henry while we were walking, and that made for more enjoyment for the rest of us. We did the same with Jasper and got the identical result.

  PATIENCE. As much as it seems like they can understand you, they can’t always know what you want. Give them a pass if they can’t figure it out right away. I taught Henry the names of his toys when he was a small puppy, and he could pull out all the ones I would ask for. Jasper, on the other hand, didn’t pick that up as easily and I had to realize he wasn’t going to be just like Henry. Being more patient with Jasper helped both of us relax.

  EASY ON THE TREATS. Find some low-calorie treats and cut them in half or thirds. And don’t always give food to reinforce good behavior. Dogs want to please their owners, so make a fuss of them—that’s as good as a treat for most dogs. Keeping a dog fit is the owner’s responsibility—take it seriously. Preventing a dog from getting overweight is important for their health, especially their hearts. And my motto is “a fit dog is a fun dog.”

  LET DOGS PLAY. Dogs need exercise and they love to have fun. Make time to take them to play with other dogs, and when they bring you a rope to pull or a ball to throw, put down your phone and give them a few minutes. I remember that Henry hated my BlackBerry—he would sulk when I would tap out e-mails when I was supposed to be walking with him. He made me pay more attention to him. Now, when I go to the dog park, I allow myself only two e-mail checks (and that’s when I usually post a photo of Jasper—rules are made to be broken if a cute picture is involved). So let your dogs play and have fun—and you’ll end up enjoying yourself more, too.

  Dogus Interruptus

  I’ve come to appreciate the differences between Henry’s and Jasper’s personalities, but there are some traditions I carried into Jasper’s life after Henry died. For example, I tell Jasper that we have to put on his necklace to go outside. It’s just a regular collar, but it sounds more special if I call it a necklace. Which is kind of like calling ground chuck “Salisbury steak.”

  I also came up with a kiss attack game that both of our dogs loved. Peter and I will slowly come at Jasper from either side and I’ll whisper, “We’re gonna get you… We’re gonna get you…” and Jasper sits there in anticipation, not moving anything but his eyes, and when we get close enough I give the signal and then we give him a kiss attack, smooching him as fast and as many times as we can.

  One thing we vowed not to do with Jasper is to give him as many table scraps as we gave Henry. I used to feed Henry half of my plate, and I snuck food to Henry when I thought Peter wasn’t looking, then Peter wouldn’t give me a hard time about not eating enough. Of course, Peter says he always knew when I’d given my dinner to Henry because (a) he wasn’t blind and (b) I was snappy when I hadn’t eaten enough. True on both counts.

  I’ve long wondered if giving Henry so many table scraps affected his health later on. I know that most dogs live only to thirteen or fourteen, so Henry had a long life for a dog. But I believe he would have been healthier and maybe not have contracted Cushing’s disease with a more healthful diet.

  Jasper gets a mix of kibble and grain-free protein, and on weekends I’ll make him some scrambled or poached eggs if we’re having the same. He loves bully sticks, which are a good chewy treat, but they smell disgusting.

  Once at a friend’s house, they’d bought Jasper a Texas Taffy bully stick to chew while we watched a football game. The husband of the couple almost threw up. He is an NYPD detective and he said that while he’d smelled plenty of dead bodies, bully sticks were much worse. It smelled awful to me, too, but I laughed so hard I cried.

  Meanwhile, Jasper was unaware of the problem his treat was causing. He just chomped on it and ignored our cries to open the windows. Too bad they got the extra-large size.

  And there’s a new treat he’s been getting. I hate to admit it, but how can I resist? At our favorite restaurant in South Carolina we take our friends and sit outside with our dogs, and I splurge on a side of bacon. But it isn’t for me. The dogs get to share it. They love it and I get a kick out of watching them devour it.

  A special treat that only I give to Jasper is a spot of lotion on his paws. Most dogs love lotion, especially after you’ve just come out of the shower and moisturized. It’s cute, but no one wants their dog to lick off their lotion.

  So instead of yelling at him, I taught Jasper to lie down and stick out his paws. Then I put a little dab on the top of each paw and he gets to l
ick it off.

  “You want your lotion?” I ask him at night when he comes in before bed. He gets so excited and Peter just shakes his head, bemused, as Jasper and I do our thing. When Jasper goes to stay the night at someone’s house while we’re traveling, I note this little tradition in case they want to try it, too.

  As an adult, I swore our dogs would never sleep all night in bed with us. For years, I’ve fallen asleep on Peter’s shoulder and that’s still my favorite spot—where I feel closest to him and safest in the world. Unfortunately, Peter has to travel a lot, and when Jasper and I were alone, I lost all of my “no dogs in the bed” willpower one night.

  The entire time Jasper had lived with us, he’d slept on his little bed next to Peter, boxed in with suitcases and cardboard boxes so he couldn’t wander around in the night. Peter would drape his hand over the bed and settle Jasper down if he woke up, and we’d look at each other and giggle when Jasper would yawn in the morning—you’ve never heard such a high-pitched squeal. Then we’d try to sneak pictures of Jasper as he learned how to clean his face and lay on his back playing with a toy. It was a small bedroom, a tight squeeze with our bed, nightstands, dresser, and puppy. But there was no place else I’d rather be.

  So, back to my weak moment that changed everything. Peter was away and I had been late at work one night. A sitter had taken care of Jasper and when I got home, it was time for bed. I got ready and put Jasper into his bed and made sure the suitcases were in place to block his way.

  I turned out the light and said good night. There’s enough ambient light in New York City that the room wasn’t completely dark, and I could see that Jasper wasn’t settling down. He was just sitting on the floor, his head now tall enough to see over the mattress. He was staring at me.